VISCSome time ago, my wife asked whether I was seeing someone else.
I felt unfairly accused, and the question was almost funny.
Most days, I go to work, come home, and eat at home. Since my thirties I have gradually reduced my social life. I rarely have evening engagements that I must attend. An affair feels very far removed from the life I actually lead.
She asked because my sexual desire has fallen noticeably this year.
I have noticed it too. I kept telling myself it was probably related to my condition this year: more pressure, more anxiety, and a head constantly filled with things to handle. A lack of interest in sex seemed understandable.
But after repeating that explanation several times, my wife stopped believing it, and I began to wonder as well.
I considered whether something might be physically wrong. I did not go to a hospital; I asked AI first. It offered a long list of possible causes: stress, sleep, weight, lack of exercise, and several things that could only be confirmed by a medical examination.
I still did not get examined.
I did start controlling my diet, trying to lose weight, and exercising little by little. I can say it was for my health, but there was also a private hope that better physical condition might change this part of my life.
So far, I cannot tell.
A lower sex drive is difficult to classify as a serious problem. It has not disrupted my daily routine. I can still work, and nothing hurts. Yet it does affect a marriage. My wife may read my lack of initiative as a lack of interest in her—or as interest directed toward someone else.
I know that is not what is happening, but I cannot clearly explain what is.
Because of this, I have found myself thinking about the word desire.
The change in sexual desire became obvious only this year. Other desires began changing much earlier.
Socializing, for example.
I cannot remember the last time I invited someone out. In the past, I thought certain relationships should be maintained even when spending time together was not especially comfortable. I rarely feel that way now. Going home after work and having dinner with my family feels good enough.
I once described this as simplifying my life: at this age, you know who is worth staying close to and stop forcing yourself.
Perhaps it is not that complicated. Perhaps I simply do not want to go.
I also used to fight harder against things that upset me. I wanted to explain myself, reverse the outcome, and win the things I thought had to be contested. I still get angry, but it passes faster. I cannot tell whether I have learned to let go or simply no longer want to spend the energy.
Some of these changes genuinely make life easier. Going out less, arguing less, and taking fewer things personally produces a quieter life.
But sometimes I wonder whether what I call peace is really peace—or whether I have simply lost interest in many things.
I do not think I am there yet.
Over the past few years, I have been continually experimenting with AI. I use it to build websites and software, and I made a physics practice tool for my son. I have written fiction with AI, published it, and signed a contract. I also restarted a public account that had been quiet for a long time.
I still want to do these things. When an idea suddenly appears, I sometimes begin working on it the same day. Whether the result is good can wait; at least the interest is still there.
That is what makes the situation strange.
Some desires have clearly faded, while others remain. I have less interest in outside relationships, but I still want to make things of my own. Sexual thoughts occur less often, yet my drive to explore AI is still strong.
Does that count as desire fading? I do not know.
Whether the lower sex drive comes from stress, anxiety, or a physical cause is also still only a guess.
I still have not gone to the hospital.